


Hello From Seattle

by Perro (Gadhar)



Category: Green Arrow (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3263903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadhar/pseuds/Perro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dammit, kid. Don't die. Don't you fucking die. I cannot lose you again. I <em>can't.</em>" Ollie holds Roy's face in his hands, tapping the kid's cheek lightly. Nothing. Ollie presses a hand to Roy's chest, bends his head, his ear right against Roy's lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> One of the only fics I wrote for the lovebirds that I intended to extend past a one-shot. Not finished but, I do have a number of chapters written.
> 
> Temporary title until I think of a better. I sat here for awhile before pulling the stack of comics I just bought last week and looking at covers until I came across "Hello From Seattle" on a postcard pictured on Green Arrow issue 16 (1989.) It was either that, or Bye Bye Birdy from another Green Arrow, issue 40 (2004), but i thought the latter was too depressing
> 
> Rating is also subject to change and tags will be updated as we go.

He's never been this slow, never been this blind. He's old, he's getting so old. Too old for this shit.

Ollie drags Roy's body in between the boxes, behind the crates, props his body up and slaps his face, hard. "Roy!" Ollie hisses—whispers—because he can't be too loud, but he still needs to be heard. "Wake up! Roy. Please, kid, come on." 

Roy doesn't give any sign of acknowledgement, his chest doesn't even rise. 

No. Shit, _no._

"Dammit, kid. Don't die. Don't you fucking die. I cannot lose you again. I _can't._ " Ollie holds Roy's face in his hands, tapping the kid's cheek lightly. Nothing. Ollie presses a hand to Roy's chest, bends his head, his ear right against Roy's lips.

No breath sounds. No heartbeat.

_Fuck no._


	2. Questions in My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinah's behind him, soothing circles on his back, soft voice in his ear, reassuring. 'It's not your fault', 'You'll find this guy', 'It'll be okay'. But it is, and he has to, and it won't.

"Four victims. Four _kids._ He's killed four."

Dinah's behind him, soothing circles on his back, soft voice in his ear, reassuring. 'It's not your fault', 'You'll find this guy', 'It'll be okay'. But it is, and he has to, and it won't.

Ollie is tempted to throw his hands up, to give in and run, to leave Dinah here in this polluted city, to let them win.

Instead he says, "You coming on patrol with me tonight?" Because he has stopped giving up, he hates himself now for things out of his control and he will not start hating himself for something he can prevent. He won't give up on this, on this life, on the city, on Dinah- none of it. They are things he loves, wants, and he's run away enough, he's messed up enough, he's not going to throw it away because some sicko with a knife is taking more lives than Ollie can bear to lose.

"Ollie, I can't. I..." Dinah sighs and her hands move to his shoulders, massaging, but hesitant, unsure.

"Dr. Mid-Nite?" He growls, because he knows that's the reason. Dinah had told him herself, he had hoped patrol would be a strong enough lure.

"I've canceled too many dates already, going out on patrol with you instead. He's worried you've gone and swept me off my feet again." She laughs, light and nervous. It's cute, adorable really, but gosh it burns deep.

"He should be," Ollie spits. He can't help it. Dinah reels him in just by being here and he can't help but hope, but want, and then be shot, a bullet to his heart, every time Dr. Mid-Nite's name comes up. Because goddamn that's Ollie's girl, _Ollie's._ Dinah's had him wrapped around her pretty little finger since the day they met, the day he watched her pound those Elvis impersonators like she was made for it. He belongs to her, and dammit it all if she doesn't know it, because she _does_ and yet...

And yet he still can't blame her for moving on.

Ollie shrugs off her hands, shoving the chair back, the legs crying against the linoleum.

"Ollie, I'm sorry-"

"Don't. Don't, Dinah, just stop. Please. Just stop. It's okay, go be with the damn owl lover, but don't expect me to be happy about it. I pretend a lot of things, I hurt myself in a lot of ways, but don't make me do that. Don't make me hurt by pretending I'm okay with you being with him." 

Ollie leaves, footsteps heavy on the floor, muscles screaming against the movements and he's so mad. Why did he do that? Why? Every time Dinah's near him he burns, like he's on fire. And his lungs hurt because he can't breathe and why does he make it out like it's her fault, like she does it on purpose?

He loves her and she knows, and he wants her to be happy and she knows, and if that means she has to move on, then he can deal and she knows, and she knows, and she knows, and she knows.

So then why?

Why does it still hurt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that I don't even know if this is actually in Seattle? I haven't decided yet. And I couldn't remember where the two were located when Dinah started that... _thing_ *hiss* with Pieter.
> 
> Oh, also, most parts (so far) graciously beta'd by Calacious


	3. The Shakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ollie stands and looks across the parking lot, the high school kid jumps down from the fence and stares at him, shocked.

_Don't fight it. Let this shot be the last one you may ever make. Let it be the perfect shot._

Ollie tracks the dirtbag with his arrow, shifting slightly on the vent, dipping the tip to account for wind.

_Wait until you know to shoot, not when you think you should shoot._

Another scumbag shows up and the two exchange a case for a case, money for drugs probably, and Ollie watches and he gives the surroundings a cursory glance. A couple with a dog a warehouse away, a truck sitting idle with a man behind the wheel, an employee smoking a fag, two fellow dirtbags guarding a truck...and a high school kid climbing the fence, readying to take a shortcut through the parking lot.

He knows.

He shoots.

The first of Ollie's arrows spears the two cases, right through the handles, lifting them out of the crooks’ hands and pinning them to the concrete wall before either crook can even begin to be scared. The next two arrows he fires from a roof down, walking across a beam, they nail one dirtbag to the wall next to the case and a third knocked and shot arrow has the other scumbag on the ground and bleeding from the shoulder. Paralyzed. He won't be moving anytime soon.

Ollie skirts a few more beams and rafters, jumping a few pipes and vents and lands on an air conditioning unit. He knocks three arrows and sends them flying. A pierced tire, and a pants leg pinned to the concrete connected to a shirt also pinned and Ollie swings down into the remaining guy. He straddles the bastard with his legs, kneeling, before punching the guy's lights out. Two shots and he's done.

Ollie stands and looks across the parking lot, the high school kid jumps down from the fence and stares at him, shocked. 

Ollie stares back.

The kid throws him a thumbs up and waves before sprinting down the alley. Ollie waves back, he's glad: Glad to get everyone down before the kid had to see, glad he stepped in before the kid stumbled onto something he shouldn't have been near when he's just trying to get home on time for dinner and glad that he stopped another shipment of poison from hitting the streets.

So if he's so glad, why can't he stop _shaking?_

He ties the perps together, tapes a signed note to them and dumps water from a bottle over the cocaine. 

He hopes that kid made it home on time.


	4. Well Lookie Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's stupid, he knows. It's rude, and it's creepy, and it's so possessive and messed up and he knows but here he is.

It's stupid, he knows. It's rude, and it's creepy, and it's so possessive and messed up and he knows but here he is.

He watches from across the street, pressed into a sizable crack between chimney and wall, swathed in the shadows. It's a trick he picked up from the Bat, the position, the way he holds himself, the way he breathes- it's all to give himself over to the shadows, to become as dark and hidden as possible. Batman has it down to an exact science, Ollie does what he can with what he's learned by just watching. It's not something that he uses much in battle but it serves him well for recon, for silent takedowns. It serves him well for this, even if it's a step down from what such stealth abilities are meant for.

Dinah laughs and Mid-Nite smiles, Ollie frowns and searches the rafters of the restaurant for that damn owl. 

He's caught the end of their date, the plates are already cleared and Cross helps Dinah into her jacket and the way his hand brushes her arm-

Ollie shakes his head. _Not. Now._

Ollie bites his tongue as they head out into the dark, into Dinah's car, prick didn't even drive her. Yeah, he's blind, but _still._ He watches until the taillights disappear and then turns his attention back to the restaurant, back to his target.  
Victoria Sinclair, the nefarious and disturbingly beautiful Roulette. She's good looking from afar, even seems polite, but she makes Ollie gag when he gets within a mile of her. 

He has no idea what she's doing trying to set up one of her illegal battle arenas in Star City when The House is such a monstrosity taking up near all of Nevada's underground, but he's not about to let it happen. Ollie's often pondered going back and slapping Roulette's grandfather upside the head a couple of times for letting his granddaughter turn into prime bitch material with a sizable pocketbook to match. But then, Ollie's heard the original Mr. Terrific almost pulled his own trigger, a few times, so, maybe no reason to tie the noose himself.

Regardless, Roulette is not something he wants to deal with right now.

Her dinner meeting goes on for another hour and though Ollie isn't close enough to her what's going on, he gets the gist from what little lip-reading he can do. It's all business deals and money and kidnapping plots and all things that he can stop with a few good placed punches.

Roulette and her partner leave separately and Ollie tags after the partner. Roulette will be easy enough to find later.

Ollie follows on the rooftops, traffic's slow, he's fast, it's easy to keep up. Fifteen minutes later he's free climbing the side of a hotel, swinging up to a balcony. 

Roulette's partner is some goober by the name of George Colette. He's never heard of the man but files paint him as some small town businessman from back east looking to crash the scene of casinos. 

Ollie slips in through the balcony doors, and sticks to the wall as he slips around in the shadows, edging towards the door to the hotel room and locking it. After that he heads to the kitchenette, inspecting the refrigerator.

At the high-pitched squeal, Ollie turns, leaning against the fridge with a milk carton in his hand. "Do you know this stuff is spoiled? Like, 2-months-sour-junky-crap spoiled?"

Roulette's partner stammers, teeth clacking together wildly and then he practically launches himself at a dresser. Ollie frowns, clicking his tongue against his teeth and putting the milk back. He strolls over to Mr. Business partner, who, by the way, doesn't even have the courtesy to cover up and decided to greet Ollie in a mere towel, and brings his elbow down hard, sending the guy flat to the ground. He steps on the guy's back then, leaning down real close and putting on his best menacing face. 

"What's your name, boy-o?"

"G-g-george."

Ollie presses his heel in deeper, twisting his foot and tries not to smile when George flounders helplessly. "That is quite the speech impediment you have there G-g-georgie-boy, might want to get that checked out."

Ollie shuffles through the drawer George had opened only to find an unloaded pistol. He twirls it around his finger and gives a low whistle. "Now _what_ are you doing with this? Such a nice guy like you shouldn't be running around with one of these." 

George looks like he's about to say something so Ollie puts down more weight on his foot, George collapsing with a huff. 

"Don't have a gun unless you're ready to use it. Now, tell me, what are you doing with Victoria Sinclair?"

"What? Who? I don't know any-"

Ollie growls, jamming his toe under George's shoulder blade. "Crazy lady with a dragon tattoo? Goes by Roulette? You had dinner with her. Don't tell me you forget your dates _that_ quick. Man, the ladies will kill ya."

"Oh, _her._ She never told me her name. She just–"

"What did she want?"

"To buy my casino, I said no, you know? I swear. I knew she was bad luck so I said no."

"Good for you, except, it didn't look like that buddy. You seemed very interested in what she had to say."

"W...well. A good businessman always hears the offer first."

"Good businessman," Ollie spits, anger flaring in the heat of his skin, "You're a slimy fatcat, man. Using your money for what? A new car, an oversized house? And I have no doubt you probably got some kind of illegal activities running through your place. You're an Eastie boy right? Well, maybe I should check out those businesses."

"N-no, man-"

"Ah, see. Yeah, I think maybe I'll have the Batman sniff around, you've heard of him right?" Oh, yes Ollie is so name dropping the Bat right now. It helps.

" _No!_ Please, _no._ I swear there's nothing." See? Name Dropping always helps.

"I don't believe you. But, tell me what you and Victoria were chatting about, and maybe I will."

George makes a low sound in his throat. It reminds Ollie of the sounds of a wet cat. "She wanted to set up shop in my casino, okay? It's got a sub-basement level that she said would be perfect for an arena, a big moneymaker, said I'd even get a forty percent cut. I was cool you know, I mean money's money. But then she started talking plots to force people to fight. I wasn't stupid, I knew she meant heroes. And you know, I like you costume guys, I think you're swell-"

"You're not getting any brownie points so stop fishing."

"I wasn't– _Anyway._ I was all for the arena idea, but I thought it'd be voluntary fighters. I don't abduct people. I'm an independent businessman, that's it."

"Well, lookie here, a slimey businessman with standards. Good for you. Now put some clothes on Georgie before you burn somebody's eyes out. I don't know what your mom was thinking when she said you were a beauty queen."

Ollie backs off George, heading back towards the balcony, slipping between the curtains and down the railing. 

So the files say George is a small businessman, yet he already has a casino. Files need to be updated. That'll be fun to needle Bats about.


End file.
